


I got this feeling on a summer day (knew it when I saw his face)

by komkommertijd



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Country Clubs, Crushes, Idiots in Love, M/M, Rich Boys Being Rich, Tennis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komkommertijd/pseuds/komkommertijd
Summary: Lance smiles and goes to unpack the second rack, even picks up most of the tennis balls to make space for them to play while Nicholas questions his life and walks around the fence to get to the door, entering the court and feeling lost despite being alone with Lance, who hands him the racket. It feels light in his hand, with just the right amount of weight to make his movements a bit more controlled and easier to handle. He twists his wrist a few times, tries to find the balance but also trying to look like he knows what he is doing because he does, his parents paid a lot of money for his old tennis constructor, after all.OrNicholas meets Lance in a Country Club. They decide to play tennis.
Relationships: Nicholas Latifi/Lance Stroll
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	I got this feeling on a summer day (knew it when I saw his face)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, kids, I'm back :)
> 
> Inspired by my own Tumblr post about this shipping (you can find it [here](https://komkommertijd.tumblr.com/post/623105880197627904/for-that-ship-thing-lancenicholas)) I sat down to write this scenario and I think I am actually quite pleased with how it turned out. I've never written about them as a pairing or about them in general before, so please don't judge me too hard - I'm always trying to improve.
> 
> English is not my first language, so some mistakes may occur. Please just ignore them :)
> 
> The title is from the song [Summer Days](https://open.spotify.com/track/7Feaw9WAEREY0DUOSXJLOM?si=ciFVJ19HRTCBx4KK0el_Qg) by Martin Garrix, Macklemore and Fall Out Boy because no, I am not creative in the slightest
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this, thank you so much for reading it <3
> 
> (You can find me on [Tumblr](https://komkommertijd.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk to me, I'll also happily reply to all comments here though!)

Nicholas sighs audibly when his back hits the sun lounger, making the construction squeak underneath his weight. The material feels slightly uncomfortable against his bare skin, digging into his back while he shuffles around to lay down properly. He's not a fan of the loungers at the country club his parents have a membership at, so college has been a fantastic excuse not to join them on their weekend trips the past months. Now that the semester is over and summer begins to settle in though, he has no good argument to stay away from the place he has no real interest in.

He's even less keen to go golfing with his father though, not in the mood to show off his non-existent skills just to get mocked by his father's cranky friends and business partners, so he lays down near one of the pools and lets the sun do some good to his rather pale skin after hiding from it by being stuck in libraries and lectures for the exam period. Nicholas puts on a pair of sunglasses that feel too impractical to be cheap and runs a hand through his hair before closing his eyes and trying to relax in the sun while he's allowed to. There's nothing else to do really, the only option besides golf is joining his mother for lunch with some ladies who like to pinch his cheeks and call him a handsome boy, and Nicholas gladly abstains from that.

Even sunbathing becomes boring an hour later, he's not used to doing nothing and following his parents' advice of „just relax, sweetie“ is working rather semi-well, so he detaches himself from the lounger and sits up, smiling politely and shaking his head at the waiter who offers him alcohol. It's barely noon and way too hot out to kill his last brain cells.

He decides to go swimming before taking a walk around the club and feels his thoughts clearing up a little when he dives into the cool water, putting his entire energy into carefully coordinated movements through the clear blue waves. The water smells an awful lot like chlorine but he tries to ignore it, feels it carding through his hair, and swims another lap. When he finally feels like he's refreshed enough, he climbs out of the pool and wipes the droplets off his face that are starting to escape his hair, reaching for the towel he put on his lounger and- finds nothing.

Nicholas blinks, partly to keep the chemicals from the water out of his eyes and partly because he's confused, he knows he put the towel there, he's a hundred percent sure about that. The water keeps running down his skin, making him shiver when it hits his neck.

“Are you looking for this?”

He turns around to find out who belongs to the unknown voice and pauses when he's confronted with a lopsided smile and a guy in white shorts and a polo shirt of some kind, almost similar to the one his parents forced him to wear that day, except it's not a plain white one, instead decorated with light blue details and- he stops himself right there and clears his throat, looks at the towel that the guy is holding out to him and nods, thanks him quietly when he takes it to dry his hair sporadically before wiping the last droplets of water off his chest.

“You got the wrong lounger mate,” the guy tells him and Nicholas feels stupid, ready to throw himself back into the pool and drown himself before he could embarrass himself even further in front of the handsome stranger. He wants to retort something, say something smart to save some of his dignity, but ultimately fails and just opens and closes his mouth without a word coming out like he's some stupid fish. The stranger laughs and Nicholas watches his dark mop of hair bounce up and down in the rhythm. When he manages to get rid of the weird thoughts evolving in his head, the unknown guy is gone, nowhere to be seen.

He wraps the towel around his shoulders and returns to his actual sunlounger to retrieve his shirt, sunglasses, and phone. He puts his trainers back on and leaves the pool area as fast as he can, hoping that no one noticed his embarrassing mistake and recognized him so that his parents wouldn't find out. The Latifi family is probably well known, he doubts that his father isn't sponsoring at least some part of the club, so escaping the situation feels quite necessary. His father wouldn't like the idiocy of his child, especially not if he usually has nothing better to do than brag to people about how Nicholas is such a smart kid and on top of most of his classes.

Nicholas momentarily bans all school and grades related thoughts from his head when the ground under his feet switches from flagstones to artificially clean looking forest soil. Park soil, he doesn't really want to consider this a forest. On his left-hand side, he can hear the occasional neighing of horses, horseback riding seems to be a big deal in a snobby country club and the complaining of old men playing golf on the right. Other than that, it is rather quiet on the path, only a few people walking by and greeting him politely or simply smiling at him as they walk past. It feels more like nature than anything he's experienced in the past weeks and he even hears a few birds chirping above his head in the summer sun. The trees offer enough shade for him to get a break from the hot sun though, so Nicholas takes his sunglasses off, for the time being, hooking it into the collar of his shirt as he walks down the path.

When he walks back to the main buildings, he takes the route that leads him past the tennis courts. Nicholas is definitely not the worst tennis player but he lacked the time to practice during exam season. The noise of bats hitting tennis balls gets him weirdly excited, so he makes a beeline for the courts, to walk past and get a look in the most casual, uninterested way possible.

He has to take a closer look when he recognizes a familiar polo shirt and the dark hair of the stranger from the pool, now tugged underneath a headband so it doesn't fall into his eyes while he plays. It matches the white sweat wristband wrapped around his tanned skin, Nicholas notices and shakes his head when his brain catches up and helps him to figure out that this kind of thought is kind of stupid. The stranger keeps playing, hitting one ball after the other when the Ball Machine keeps attacking him with them, focussing entirely on his practice. When the last ball leaves the machine and ends up getting fired across the court, the stranger visibly relaxes and puts down his racket, walking over to the bench he put his stuff on, unscrewing a waterbottle and lifting it to his lips. He stops in his movement when he catches Nicholas watching him.

Nicholas swallows hard and ignores his brain telling him to leave, instead continuing to stare as the stranger starts drinking, eyes still fixed on Nicholas. It creates a weird tension, not entirely uncomfortable but unexpected nevertheless and when the cap of the bottle is screwed back on before the stranger tosses it back onto the bench, Nicholas weighs his options, deciding that simply running away now is not less awkward than staying at all. So, decisions.

Decisions he never gets to make, because the stranger apparently decided faster than him.

“Hey pool boy, do you know how to play tennis?”

“Yeah, I just- I don't have a racket with me,” he replies when he steps closer to the fence, shrugging. He's glad that he took the time to switch his swimming trunks for actual pants before he went for his walk, supposing that playing tennis would get very uncomfortable for multiple reasons if he hadn't.

“You can borrow my substitute racket. I'm Lance, by the way,” Lance introduces himself after making his first statement sound as if it's completely normal to bring a second racket in case the first one breaks.

“Nicholas. Latifi,” he manages to get past lips, doesn't know why he added his last name, Lance didn't do it either, after all, it's not like he wants to brag or prove something. Lance smiles and goes to unpack the second rack, even picks up most of the tennis balls to make space for them to play while Nicholas questions his life and walks around the fence to get to the door, entering the court and feeling lost despite being alone with Lance, who hands him the racket. It feels light in his hand, with just the right amount of weight to make his movements a bit more controlled and easier to handle. He twists his wrist a few times, tries to find the balance but also trying to look like he knows what he is doing because he does, his parents paid a lot of money for his old tennis constructor, after all.

When he moves to stand opposite Lance, the next between them, he suddenly feels slightly more nervous than he usually does when playing tennis, tries to blame it on the fact that he hasn't played the sport in a while and yet he's aware that it's Lance's fault deep down. His opponent smiles, confident, and ready to absolutely destroy Nicholas, which doesn't comfort him at all.

He loses the first game, didn't really expect anything else going into it, and simply rolls his eyes when Lance mocks him, putting more effort into it in the next game. He manages to react fast enough to outplay Lance more than once, ending the next game with a victory on his side, showing the other one that he can fight, he just needs to get back into it before he can start feeling like he can wipe the floor with Lance.

In the end, he doesn't, not really. He gets caught up in the flow, ball against cushion over asphalt ground, ball against racket, sending it back over the net in sharp and precise movements, running to the other corner of the court to reach a ball that no beginner would ever get. Lance seems impressed, a bit out of breath even, when they tie with six wins each. Nicholas rolls his head, scrunching his nose at the audible cracking of his bones. Lance shakes his hand to release the straining feeling slightly, wiping the sweat pooling on his forehead off before a grin spreads across his features, eyes glinting like he's challenging Nicholas, signaling him to give his best in the next game.

They're both quite exhausted after so many games in the burning sun, Nicholas scolds himself for not putting sunscreen on beforehand and for not bringing any water, slowly feeling the nausea of dehydration settling in. He's not going to give in now, not when he's so close to winning the set with a tie-break, so close to proving himself and impressing Lance with one more game. He's so close to it-

and immediately falls over to lay on the court when he secures his two-point lead and wins the set, weakly raising his arms in triumph and croaking something about needing water. Lance seems to understand, almost carelessly dropping his racket, Nicholas is still holding on to his second one, and hurrying to get his water bottle, helping Nicholas to sit up. He gratefully smiles at Lance before taking a sip, clearing up his brain a bit and returning from the haze of exhaustion and dizziness, that is now fading at well. Lance's hand is warm against Nicholas's sweaty shirt.

“Well done, try not to die next time though,” he congratulates the winner once he's able to get back up and his heart leaps at the indication of next time. He simply laughs and scratches the back of his head, slightly embarrassed for always making a fool of himself in front of Lance, who doesn't really seem to mind because he laughs along as if nothing happened. Nicholas watches him with a smile still comfortably draped across his face when Lance zips up the safety cases of the rackets and helps him to pick the last of the tennis balls up. Their hands briefly touch when they both reach for the last one and Nicholas would've snorted at the cliche-heavy gesture if his breath didn't get stuck in his throat. Lance is quick not apologize and picks the ball up, putting it into the bucket where the other ones already disappeared in.

“So, when will I see you again?” he asks when they're walking down the path back to the main building, going for casual and getting betrayed by the hope-loaded nervousness of his voice. Lance is either nice enough to ignore it or not very good at distinguishing the different tones of Nicholas's voice yet because his answer is nowhere near teasing for once.

“Whenever you'll be back. It's my dad's club, I'm here every day.”

A lot of things suddenly make sense, like Lance not telling him his last name earlier. Was he supposed to recognize him? Know who he was talking to? Treated him with more respect? Then again, Lance introduced himself earlier before Nicholas even got the chance to, so he probably was well aware that Nicholas didn't know him before their earlier encounters. After a while of rolling his thoughts around in his head like dices, he figures that he maybe should reply to Lance, which causes him to feel another wave of embarrassment washing over him.

“I'll be back next weekend, my parents will gladly let me join”, he informs his companion and smiles once more, politely, mostly, but also brimming with excitement to play tennis with Lance again. It's the easiest way of combining his both greatest interests- he stops his train of thought again, right before his brain goes down the drain. They reach the main building, where Nicholas can already spot his parents chatting with their friends. He stops and turns to face Lance, whose hair now looks a lot messier than before, probably because of the headband that has been removed after their match.

“Alright, Nicky. I'll see you next weekend then. Bring your own racket then,” he says, cheerful despite the hinted mocking. Nicholas nods, not able to contain his smile and his heart hurting in an unknown way when Lance calls him by that nickname. Before he can think about it any longer, he hugs Lance in a gesture that is supposed to mean goodbye but feels like something he could do all day long for no reason whatsoever. Lance smiles against his shoulder and embraces him tightly, neither of them caring about the sweat that is still present on their backs.

“Don't think I'll let you win next time,” he whispers before letting go, pressing a quick kiss to Nicholas's cheek before bouncing down a different path, the tennis rackets in their cases still slung across his shoulder. Nicholas blinks, definitely confused this time, feels his hands beginning to tremble when his brain works through what the hell just happened. Lance turns to look back over his shoulder, smiling and waving at Nicholas, who still feels like he's glued to the spot, unable to move his legs.

He waves back, feels something weird flutter in his stomach, and decides that maybe getting dragged to the country club by his parents isn't all that bad sometimes.


End file.
